Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the hook slice, like a lucky fish.
All I wish is that you taste this like a dish.
the L-A-R-S, H-O double-R I-S...
and I CV, and yes I must confess:
I'm back and the snare drum pumps.
up, Kris Kross, it's my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
rocking it like Valens,
and I'm up to this session,
yes I'm up to fresh challenge.
And I'm thinking, and I'm writing,
and I'm rapping, and fighting
all the layers of green
up the zone.
Because analyze your world,
I'll analyze head.
readjust your paradigm with this microphone.
I was chilling in my '88 on 101,
with the in the back bumping P.E. number one.
Free-styling in a I didn't create,
props to Melle Mel, Chuck D, and all
hundred thousand on whose shoulders I stand.
I'm just a kid with a plastic jammie in his hand!
See MC here spends his life feeling fine,
but doesn't get off in a straight line.
Fine, time will tell where headed.
It's up to chance, Gretel's path is breaded.
Your criticism? I'm it! Your BS? Let's rubber glove it!
Take your heroin and shove it... life got to love it.
So get this, steal this, this, peel this away,
I made this song out of my brain and clay.
It my brain chill for a week and a day,
until one day it stopped working like the of Pompeii.
But okay, hey, because I roll it home.
Knick knack paddy whack, my range his grown.
Profound like De Saint Exuperey,
when I the chorus of this song I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Part Swedish, part Australian, fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I 1430 on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
rock the CoHo like 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I drop English and and biology.

I piss Catholics off with my comic in the Daily. "Why's it called Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he try to rock the mike like me?
And I'm weird like Al, attend Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Who's Mike?
Josh plays and I take wedding vows,
to my hip-hop rhymes I'm busting now.
And I satisfy women GER's,
I advocate the of SUV cars.
I think Israel and should get along.
I sampled Nine Inch Nails for song.
And I'm so post-modern, I even exist.
Did you hear P. Diddy?
You got dissed!
It's the twenty-first century, please,
you're killing when you sample the Bee Gees!
Most MC's rap about five things:
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
Delusions of grandeur in swing,
fascist self and diamond rings.
But if Martin Luther King were today,
how would he the decay displayed?
identities, ourselves betrayed,
there's more to rap than getting paid.
And there's to life than MTV and Reeses Pieces,
and when I sit in silence, my for life increases.
It feels great to pull the plug on the TV,
and make my own in society.
And while I freak this beat, you're spoken word,
trying to get your naked heard.
If I didn't ProTools, I'd be like you
and I could just do word if I wanted to.

"Lars Horris," hey me!
You might see me on the bumping Run-DMC.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
my BA I'll get my PhD.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Metaphysically fly like Donne's "The Flea."
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Rewriting Bronte like Sargasso Sea.